The Arrangement 22 (The Arrangement 22)

When we enter, I glance around. Black’s house is modern and sleek. Everything is glass and chrome, in stark contrasting shades of gray. There are a few fine pieces—an antique chaise lounge, a French writing desk, but nothing expensive enough to betray her reported income. On the surface, this is the home of an upper-middle-class woman living alone.

Sean waves me down a long, mirror-lined hallway and into the master bedroom. He rushes me into the closet where Mel is placing her bead on a computer and taping it in place. The monitor flickers for a second as she deposits the bead on the machine.

Henry locates the footage of us entering and deletes it. “Have at it," he says, without looking up. "Only ten minutes this time. Longer than that is pressing our luck.”

I head out with Mel and Sean. Marty is canvassing the perimeter, watching for Black and her security detail to come home. If she arrives, he'll tell Henry, who will then tell us, and we’ll bolt. I still don’t like this—wandering through her house feels like an invitation to get shot.

Mel disappears into one room and Sean into another. I take the last door at the end of the hall. When I open the door into the room, I wish I hadn’t. It’s a retrofitted gym with dark wood floors, thick mats, and chrome poles with leather tethers dangling from the top. Mounted to a wall is something that looks like it belongs in a torture chamber. It has straps and clamps attached to it directly, and an assortment of removable metal spikes waiting on a nearby table. I cringe. Was Sean into this with her? Has he been here? In this very room? Did Black introduce him to all this dark, painful sex play stuff? I don’t know.

Ignoring as much as possible of the contraptions surrounding me, I head toward the back of the room to a small bed and nightstand. Nervous, I pull the glass knob too forcefully and accidentally pull the entire drawer from its frame. It clatters to the floor, spilling its contents. A bottle of lube rolls to a stop at my feet. I swear under my breath as I shove it back in the drawer along with condoms and permanent markers. As I stretch to slide the drawer back into its tracks, I notice something odd. The inside of the drawer is shallow, but the outside of the drawer is deep. I put it on the floor and push at the corners of the inside of the drawer. It tilts.

“False bottom,” I mutter to myself and remove all the items from the top part of the drawer.

Then I push again and grab a corner as it lifts. Beneath the board rests a chain with three slender, golden keys. It looks like jewelry. I lift it in my hand and turn them over. The keys are big enough to be real, but something about them reminds me of the Tiffany’s key pendants I’ve seen others wear over the past few years. I look for a tool mark or the 14K stamp, but there’s nothing. Glancing around, I wonder what they unlock and why they’re hidden. Whatever they unlock, it’s not here. I return the keys to their hiding place, then return the drawer to the nightstand.

I head toward the front of the room and stop to stare at a pole. It has leather straps in three spots, one of which resembles a collar. In front of that is a wand on wheels. It’s about three feet tall, adjustable, and has a clamp on the top. It goes with the pole, but I can’t figure out what it does.

Mel’s voice startles me. “You want a demonstration?”

“No.”

Mel laughs, rolls the thing forward, and locks the wheels. “Adjustable, and there’s a remote somewhere. You get tied to the post, locked in so you can’t move, and the other person uses the remote with the correct toy on the end to either tease or make you come. I had a client who was into this shit. He had a shocking dildo he liked to use.”

My eyes go wide as my girlie parts cringe. “Oh, God! Did it hurt?”

She shrugs. “Not really, but it’s not my thing. Well, if I'd been the one calling the shots, it might be a different story. Black is into some messed up shit! Is that a bucking barrel?”

Mel walks over to a large, tapered cylinder with an O-ring on the front. It’s upholstered in leather and sits suspended horizontally, elevated off the floor by an iron hydraulic frame. “Shit. This thing cost a fortune!” Mel runs her hand down the length of it, then knocks her fist against it, expecting to hear a hollow sound. Instead, it thuds like something is inside. She glances at me, “Wonder what’s in here?”

Mel crawls underneath, finds a seam in the leather, pulls it apart, and shoves her hand into the barrel. She immediately pulls her arm out again, dumping a wad of cash on the floor. Her face lights up. “No fucking way! Black hid her cash in here?”

I look under and grin. “She put it in the one place no one would look.”

“She forgot about us. This kinda thing makes most people want to run away. Not me. Been there. Done that. Literally.” Mel reaches inside again and pulls out more cash. The third time she yanks out a black bag too. She sits up and opens it. “Damn. I could live off of the contents of this purse for the rest of my life.”

“What is it?” I lean in, trying to see.

Mel folds the fabric open and offers it to me before leaning down and sealing the trap door on the bottom of the barrel.

I open the little sack and look inside. Something glints in the darkness. I tip the bag into my palm, and a collection of stones tumble out. “Diamonds! There are, like, three dozen in here.”

“And they’re big,” Mel adds, straightening.

“Who would have paid her in diamonds?”

Mel gives me a look. “Who do you think? Which means Black has been doing shit she shouldn’t do for a while. I wonder if she was into this shit while Vic’s father was alive.” Mel stops ogling the stones in my hand and glances at me. I put the rocks back in the bag, and she murmurs, “He’s not your father, you know, and that junior asshole isn’t your brother. Blood is just shit that runs through your veins, Avery. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

That makes me feel a little better, but it still makes my skin crawl to know I’m related to such evil people. There are no guarantees in life. None. It wouldn’t bother me so much if I knew who I was turning into, but my identity slipped between my fingers the day I met Sean. It’s not his fault. It’s just timing. I would have been ensnared in all this with or without Sean. In a way, the insanity has brought me friendships that are stronger than blood—which is what Mel means.

I drop my head and sincerely tell her, “Thanks, Mel. You’re as close to a sister as I could get.”

She offers a wry smile and sniggers, “You just wish you were this tan!”

Arching a brow at her, I fold my arms over my chest. She’s such a goofball. “I think you mean black.”

“That, too. Then you could wear hoop earrings and be a badass like me. But you can’t. You’re the younger sis, the nerd, and way too pasty. It’s all right,” Mel covers my hand with hers. “I’ll look out for you.”

CHAPTER 7

~SEAN~

Nothing. Miss Black keeps her secrets close and her enemies closer. I thought I knew her well but never considered her capable of human trafficking. Kidnapping and enslaving people is so far removed from her original life goals that I wonder if she lied to me the entire time I knew her. It wouldn’t surprise me now.

Survival instinct is strongest when a person is about to hit rock bottom. Miss Black isn’t the type of woman to go down without a fight. Even so, this is so disturbingly wrong I don’t know how to process it. It makes me wonder who is a more formidable opponent here—Black or Vic Jr.? While getting shot by that bastard would suggest Vic, the silent involvement of Black makes me wonder if she’s the brains behind the whole operation. In which case, unhinged or not, we should be more wary of her as our adversary.

My mind flickers back to my mother, singed and chained. Her filthy face and ripped nails didn’t escape my notice. She was either in or near the mansion when the explosion occurred. Dirt and grime lined her nail beds and covered her forearms as if she'd been digging through the wreckage. She lost someone significant to her that day. Now the world thinks she’s dead, and Black intends to sell her. She won’t be bought for her body—anyone

interested in acquiring Constance Ferro is her enemy. Mother wronged so many people it’s impossible to choose who it could be, but I have a few hunches. The good thing is she’s still locked in that room. No one jumped at the chance to buy her. The bad thing is she’s still locked in that room. It’s possible they were stalling to line up her sale.

Avery’s compassion nearly made me stop and take Mother with us and damn the consequences. Regardless of the bad things Mother’s done, this is a hideous way to die—being sold as property and losing all sense of safety, sense of self. That alone could unhinge her.

I rustle through papers on a hallway desk and hear Marty approach. He’s silent, but there are telltale signs in the way he moves, in the noises of the house. A floorboard groans softly, and I don’t turn as I speak. “Time to go?”

“Pull out. They’re headed this way with Vic Jr. in tow. I’m supposed to be here for them so get the fuck out now.”

“Got it.”

Marty jogs down the hall, repeats his message to the girls, then melts into the shadows.

I want to free my mother, but that means revealing we’re coming. It risks Avery, and I can’t do it. I’ve played the scenario over and over again in my mind, trying to come up with an alternative, but I come up empty handed. There’s no way to release my mother without giving us away. I can’t jeopardize Avery. I won’t lose her. I have to protect her. Even so, Pete will kill me if something happens to Mother. Jon will... Well, it’s hard to predict how he’ll react. Jon’s still pissed at the world and hides it with a smile.

As I move down the hall, I meet up with the girls. Mel arches a brow at me and snorts. “You were into kinky shit before you met Black, weren’t you?”

Avery gasps and whispers, “Don’t ask him that! I haven’t even asked him that!”

“Well, ask him! He’s standing right here.”

I repress the growl that’s building in the back of my throat. “Ladies, we need to grab Henry and get out. I’m sorry it was for nothing. I can’t believe we’re leaving empty handed.”

“We aren’t.” Avery’s eyes gleam, and she tips her head toward Mel.

“We found a stash of cash and more. Check it.” She holds up a baggie and tosses it to me. I slow, glance around a corner, then open the pouch and glance inside. Clear stones gleam within.

“Diamonds?” I'm surprised Black keeps them here. “Where were these?”